


Remembering Elysium

by wianwriting



Series: 100 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Violence, F/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Beta Read, Not Epilogue Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wianwriting/pseuds/wianwriting
Summary: Vignettes of a wizarding war that never ended.A hundred ways to say 'i love you' writing challenge.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: 100 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137785
Kudos: 5





	Remembering Elysium

**Author's Note:**

> Self-imposed writing challenge to pen collection of drabbels based on the list of prompts by p0ck3tf0x on tumblr & tags will be updated as the story evolves
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and do not claim profit from this work. Inspired from the wizarding world of HP.

One thing no one tells you about fighting a war, is how time starts to unravel. Between the long stretches of supply runs and meetings, the sudden eruptions of activity and chaos break the fog and pull everything into twice the speed of what the mind can process. The first crack of magic against the wards signalled the beginning battle of Hogwarts, both felt like yesterday and three years ago all at once.

The dawn chorus rings out into the countryside and through the trees as the puttering of a small car makes it way along the sideroads. Cold morning air cutting into the sliver of space between the windows. Soft tungsten glow from the headlights moves gingerly through the fog, just enough for sleepy eyes to turn away and return to their peaceful slumber before greeting the day.

With each passing mailbox, her heartbeat slowed and breath evened, but her shoulders were tense with strain. The lids of her eyes felt numb from wear as she tried to tally the number of signs to pass before making the next turn. The cobblestone fences started merging and the pattern reminded her of the endless portrait walls that used to run amok with colour and life, chattering and filtering from frame to frame without restraint. She could swear that the blurring of colours started to look the way a chorus or an ensemble would sound – just as muggles would describe synaesthesia -

**_“Pull over. Let me drive for awhile.”_ **

Hermione’s vision snapped back into focus as he spoke, his voice gravelly from the long stretch of silence that plagued them. In another life it would have shocked her to learn that he knew how to drive, let alone regard anything muggle with anything other than scorn. However, they were no longer the children that bickered in the warm brick walls of Hogwarts. That life was reduced to the very same rubble where their beloved school once stood.

“I would prefer that we get the package there in one piece, Granger.”

Her hands flexed on the steering wheel as she let out a slow breath to collect herself. Clicking her tongue, she stared ahead, ignoring the tension radiating off her companion. Her _partner_. She cleared her throat and ran her tongue over her chapped lips “It is only a couple more hours. We need to make the check in.”

Just a few more boxes before they reach the bridge, which will lead them to the creek, the fork in the road, the turn off to the… bush? The tree? Or the tree before the bush? Her eyes darted to the rear-view mirror – was that a shadow?

“With the way you’re swerving we’d be lucky to make it without concussions. Your Gryffindor heroism is going to send me and my potions into the fucking channel. After what you lot pulled today-”

She jerked the steering wheel, driving into the dirt before slamming on the breaks. The car shook violently as the cushioning charms held the vials in place, blissfully unaware of their precarious position, had it not been for the foresight of their makers. The driver’s side door flung open and Hermione stalked away into the nearby field. She tried to ignore the smell of burnt rubber wafting from the back of the car – reminding her of the dawn patrol that sent them fleeing into the morning fog.

She held herself and pulled at the fabric of the worn flannel shirt that did not belong to her. The crisp morning air felt like shards being drawn through her nose and burned down her lungs. Tears threatened to spill as she rubbed her shaking hands roughly across her cheeks. Feeling her dry skin mixed with grime and sweat made her flinch as she stared, unseeingly, at her upturned palms. They reminded her of the frenzy of grabbing as many supplies and leather tomes as they could before shoving them into transports. She felt the grime settle on her hands and all she could see was blood and the world around her draining away into static.

“Granger.”

She blinked once. Twice. In her right hand she now held her wand, levelled squarely at Draco’s neck. She stared numbly into his steely grey eyes, which betrayed nothing beyond annoyance. It was just like the year she punched him, except that he was no longer the same boy simpered at the end of her wand, and she was no longer the same girl that held the high ground. Her hair crackled with rumblings of her magic as she pressed her lips into a thin line. Even though she could feel her rage screaming for release, she knew they could not use magic, not in transit, and certainly not when they have a job to do.

Hermione was poised and coiled for a fight, but Draco’s shoulders fell ever so slightly as he sighed. The annoyance in his eyes shifted into something unrecognisable.

“Let me drive.”

And just as quickly, Hermione felt the fire leave her with a stuttered breath. Before she could lower her wand, he turned around and marched back to the car with his hands in his pockets. Only a fool would turn their back on a wand. She forced herself to keep breathing as she tuned back to look out to the rolling, endless fields. With shaky breaths, she let the sound of the river and birds carry her thoughts into the endless, eerie, horizon. Another endless day lay ahead of them as the long and meandering dirt road takes them forward, with no end in sight.


End file.
